


Guess I'm Stuck With You

by LittleSixx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, POV Hermione Granger, Post-Hogwarts, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 02:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSixx/pseuds/LittleSixx
Summary: Draco and Hermione are stuck in a Ministry lift on New Year's Eve.





	Guess I'm Stuck With You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DFW fest, which required the story to start (or end) with the phrase "And so it begins," and have the theme of New Year's Eve.

“And so it begins.”

Draco mumbled the phrase a couple times as he approached the stairwell. He hated his time on Level Ten, not for the climb to Level Nine, but because it meant he was doing the most awful part of his job. When he became a Hitwizard, he knew parts of the job would be uncomfortable. Long stakeouts, undercover missions, flashing the Dark Mark when necessary … He was never told about what he would be doing in the Ministry Detention Area. He would have declined.

Draco Malfoy turned around to briefly glance down the circular corridor. The sickly green colour of the tunnel was mostly drowned out by the darkness. What little light they had showed a large lump tied to a chair. It was a middle-aged man, but only Draco would know that. After all, Draco put him there. And even though it nearly killed him, Draco always looked back. Those moments always made his chest tighten up and his left forearm tingle. He took a deep breath and remembered the Dark Lord was not lurking in the shadows, that there were different things to be feared in dark corners. It took a minute before he was ready to climb the stairs.

Draco realized a long time ago that the feeling would never leave.

He climbed the two floors to the atrium, never one to stop in the Department of Mysteries, an unintentional lesson from his father. He stepped into the atrium at 7:55 and headed for the lift on the far side. The lift no one used because it creaked like Umbridge catching sight of a Centaur.

Draco pressed the button for Level 2 and waited. It took several seconds for the lift doors to close and the climb past each level was incredibly slow. He was willing to wait because no one else would get on. It went past Level 7, and Draco made a note to stop by that week. He tended to pop by the patents office and sneak a look at the newest racing broom. The lift went past Level 6 but stuttered to a halt at Level 5.

“Department of International Magical Cooperation,” the voice said. Draco closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the heavens. Of course, today of all days, someone would choose this lift. He opened his eyes and looked again toward the doors. Since the day hadn’t been quite shitty enough, they parted to reveal Hermione Granger flipping through a stack of parchment. Without looking up, she walked into the lift … and kept walking until she ran right into Draco.

“Oh!” she shouted. She looked up, recognized him, and repeated, “Oh.”

“Evening,” Draco replied. She glanced down at the floor before shuffling over to his side. He didn’t hate Granger. He couldn’t, really, they spent so much bloody time together. Every time Draco was given an assignment she was his first stop. Together they looked for any reason to spare someone’s life once they were handed to Draco as a target. Diplomatic, technical, exploitative … Hermione Granger helped every time. He couldn’t avoid every assignment, and after each successful mission they shared a glass of Firewhisky in silence.

He didn’t like her. Hermione Granger was bossy, snarky, and she seemed to know everything about English and international magical law. The problem, of course, was that she actually did know everything about the law. She kept a bottle of Firewhisky in the bottom drawer at her desk, always prepared when Draco showed up unannounced and bloody.

Alright, maybe he liked her a little. She sagged against the wall and sighed as the lift doors closed.

“Who was it today?” she asked.

“Riley Willingham,” Draco said. “I caught him in Dublin and brought him back for trial a month ago.” Draco sighed and slammed his head back into the wall as his left forearm started to burn. He grinded his teeth together before saying, “Azkaban for him.”

They passed Level 4 in silence, no noise except for the groans of the lift as it wobbled a bit. Granger asked,

“Why is it so hard for you to send them away?”

Draco chuckled darkly and admitted, “Because every time I put them in the chair, I remember how close that was to being me.”

The lift came to a sudden halt, so both Hermione and Draco stumbled forward. Her papers went flying and Draco nearly faceplanted into the front wall. He shook his head and pushed himself off, hoping for a quick resolution. The doors were closed, halfway between Levels 4 and 3.Twenty seconds later, nothing had happened. Draco grabbed his wand, pointed it at the doors, and shouted,

“ _Aliese!”_

Nothing happened. Noise from the Ministry’s New Year’s Eve party filtered through the upper part of the lift. Draco pointed his wand at the doors again and shouted,

“ _Aperire Celer!”_

Nothing. Draco stuffed his wand into his back pocket and placed his fingers in the seam of the doors, trying to pry them open to no avail. He slammed a fist against the door and shouted,

“FUCK!”

“What time is it?” Granger asked, unconcerned by his outburst. Draco glanced down at his watch.

“Eight o’clock.”

Granger said, “We are going to be here awhile,” and tossed her purse on the ground. She knelt on the floor and started scooping up disassembled papers. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”

“Yes,” Draco said. “Why does that matter?”

“Because from eight until midnight the Ministry shuts off the lifts,” Granger answered. “Apparently, last year during their party more than one couple was caught shagging in them. It’s stairwells only.”

“People will shag on the stairs,” Draco replied.

Granger laughed and asked, “Do you speak from experience?”

“Regrettably,” Draco admitted, sliding down the right wall. Hermione momentarily paused the shuffling of her papers, shook her head, then sat across from him. There were perhaps two metres of space between them. The crowd noise filtered in and the band the Ministry hired was heavy on the bass. It shook the lift just enough to make Draco nervous. He rifled through his pockets and tossed the contents onto the floor. There were seven Galleons, breath mints, and a Puffapod.

“What are you doing?” Granger asked.

“Are we truly going to be stuck in here for four hours?” Draco countered. She nodded and he said, “Then we should take stock of what we have.”

Hermione laughed.

“I could sustain us in here for days.” She opened her purse and stuffed her arm down, much further than it should have gone. An Extending Charm, of course. She pulled out two plates and two forks then dug inside again. Once finished, she handed Draco a slice of chocolate cake and a glass of Butterbeer. She said, “Happy New Year.”

Draco took the first bite of cake and, oh, it was creamy. The cake had just the right amount of crumble and wasn’t too sweet. He moaned and agreed,

“Happy New Year, indeed.”

They ate in silence for awhile. It was their normal interaction and Draco loved it. He never had to say anything, never had to relive what he had done that day. If he showed up to her office, Granger knew what needed to be done. If pressed, Draco would say he liked her because she understood not all trauma needs to be spoken.

“Why did you become a Hitwizard?” she asked after several minutes. Draco wiped the corners of his mouth and shrugged.

“I did not want to stay at the manor. My parents find all sorts of ways to remind me I am a disappointment. Sometimes I think they would have preferred me ending up in Azkaban.”

“That’s horrible,” Hermione observed with little surprise and even less pity. Draco smiled.

“Not really. They were not exactly a success story, living with the Dark Lord for years and nearly dying for him on several occasions. I felt like the best thing to do was fight for the side that never actively tried to kill me or my family.”

“You’re a glorified bounty hunter,” Hermione countered.

“Dead or alive,” Draco said, bitterly. “It wasn’t pitched to me this way, you know. They wanted a former Death Eater because they knew I had been around death. They made the mistake of assuming I was impartial toward it.”

“I know you’re not,” she agreed. “You are trying to be a good person and I respect that, even if you may be going about it the wrong way.”

“Well it is not as though there were a ton of people leaping at the chance to give me a job,” Draco countered. “It was this or working for the leftover Weasley at the joke shop.”

Granger threw her fork at Draco’s head and he barely had time to deflect it with a spell.

“Do not speak ill of George or Fred,” she said through gritted teeth. Draco rolled his eyes. Granger always had been too close to the Weasleys. Even when she and Weasel-bee broke up, they were always together. The Golden Trio, inseparable as always. Draco envied it in a way, since all his friends had other people to depend on. Other people they held in higher esteem. Other people who didn’t have the Dark Lord’s Mark branded on their fucking arm.

Granger narrowed her eyes and asked, “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing you would care to know,” Draco replied. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Draco asked, “Why do you have several days’ worth of things in your purse?”

“Habit,” Hermione answered. Draco did not feel any need to push further. He leaned against the wall of the lift and drifted into a light sleep. His eyes opened sometime later, but Draco could not be bothered to look at his watch.

“Harry was always the target,” Hermione said. Draco blinked himself awake. “For years, Ron and I knew Harry was the one Voldemort wanted. About sixth year was when we realized they knew they could use us to get to him. Ron and I knew we would have to run, so I always had something packed. Thank Merlin for it, because no one else expected the attack on Bill and Fleur’s wedding. After the war, I tried to settle in to a normal life. I think I do alright, but some things stick. Sometimes I see a shadow and run. Sometimes I cast protection spells around my house. And I always travel with the essentials.”

Draco nodded.

“Would you care to make a wager?”

Draco leaned forward, intrigued.

“I have seven Galleons, so what is the bet?”

“Not Galleons,” Hermione teased. “I bet that I know more about you than you know about me.”

Draco smiled and said, “This may end up rather embarrassing for you. What are we wagering with?”

“If I win, you quit your job.”

Draco nearly choked on a sip of Butterbeer.

“Bloody hell, Granger! Why would you want me to do that?”

“To get you out of my office, for one,” she admitted. “Do you realize how much time I spend with you working out cases? It’s a quarter of my time, Malfoy. I don’t like watching you in pain, and every time you are in my office you have this look on your face like you would rather be doing anything else.”

“Except working in a joke shop,” Draco insisted. Hermione laughed.

“Except that,” she repeated.

“It’s not my fault I am damn good at what I do,” Draco insisted. “I was around so many people who treated death like it was a pudding to be passed around the table.”

Hermione asked, “What do you want if you win?”

Draco put down his plate and thought about it for a few minutes. Granger couldn’t really give him what he wanted. A friend he could count on to be there in his darkest moments? A family who wouldn’t look down on him? No, she couldn’t give him that. But he would revel in any opportunity to make her uncomfortable. The disgusted look she got on her face, the one where her nose scrunched up and she squinted her eyes shut? That was the highlight of his day.

“If I win, you have to kiss me.”

Granger’s wand fell to the floor.

“Sorry, what?” she asked.

“You heard me,” Draco insisted. “You lose, you kiss me.”

Granger shrugged and said, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes. This means I have no reason to let you win,” Hermione admitted.

“Let me win?!” Draco asked, laughing. “Merlins’ arse, Granger, you do not stand a chance. Now, tell me how we are to determine that I win.”

Hermione didn’t answer. She pulled two pieces of parchment from her purse along with two quills. She mumbled a quick spell before handing Draco one of each.

“These are not going to explode, are they?” he asked, hesitantly accepting each item. Hermione shrugged and said,

“No, but perhaps I should have considered that. I will ask you a question about me and write the answer on my parchment. Write down your guess on yours and we show them to each other when they are done. After my five questions, we move on to yours.”

“Ink?”

“Not needed. Ink will appear on your parchment as you write, and the answers will disappear after they have been shown,” Granger said.

“Bloody hell,” Draco mumbled. “You really do know a spell for everything.”

Granger quickly glanced at his forearm before averting her eyes and saying, “Almost.” She cleared her throat and said, “I’ll begin with some easy questions.

“Fine by me,” Draco said. He was surprised when she asked her first question.

“When is my birthday?”

Granger wasn’t joking when she said easy.

“Do you want the year?” he asked. Hermione raised her eyebrows and nodded. Draco placed the nib of his quill on the parchment and wrote, _19 th of September, 1979._ He showed her the answer and her shoulders slumped a bit when she revealed her own parchment.

“How the hell do you know that?” she asked.

“Last year I came to your office and there were flowers all over your desk, balloons, and even a singing Cupid from your wanker boyfriend. I am not quite so unobservant.”

“Not a wanker,” she mumbled. The ink on Draco’s parchment vanished and Hermione raised her voice to ask the next question. “What is my favourite colour?”

He thought about that for a bit. He was fairly confident, but not certain. He settled on _Blue_. When Hermione revealed her own parchment she asked,

“How could you possibly know that?!”

Draco shrugged and said, “You wore a dress that colour to the Yule Ball. The necklace your mum gave you is blue and half the flowers you received for your birthday were blue orchids. I have been known to, on occasion, pay attention.”

Hermione shook her head, the expression of surprise not leaving her face.

“Fine, I suppose I will have to up the difficulty.”

“Happily,” Draco insisted.

“What is my dream job?”

“This is what you call difficult, Granger?” he asked. He wrote _Supreme Mugwump_ on his parchment before Hermione’s quill had even touched hers. He revealed his answer and she groaned.

“I thought you would say Minister for Magic!”

“No,” Draco shook his head. “You care about justice, and that is why I come to you to help me cancel these assignments. Being Minister is about being in charge of Britain, but as Supreme Mugwump you get to set policy and make decisions for the entire magical world. You can help more people as the SM, so that must be your dream job.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open a bit. She rubbed the nape of her neck and looked up at Draco, confused.

“Are we friends?” she asked.

“Well …” Draco trailed off. “I think we might be.”

“I never noticed,” Hermione admitted. She smacked her lips together and said, “Next question! You couldn’t possibly know what song I sing in the shower.”

Draco rolled his eyes and wrote down the answer. He was a little surprised by how suddenly it came to him. He didn’t even bother writing on his parchment, opting instead to say,

“I assume it is ‘All Hat, No Wand’ by the Dirigible Scums, since you mutter it all the time.”

Hermione leaned back against the wall. She held up her parchment which read, _All Hat, No Wand._ Draco smiled and she bit down on her lip. Then Hermione smiled and Draco knew he was in for it.

“What is my favourite movie?”

Draco paused, then asked, “What the hell is a movie?”

Hermione answered with a smile.

“Hermione, is this some sort of Muggle thing?” he asked. She nodded. “Fine, you have me. I don’t know about a movie.” She scribbled something on her parchment and held it up. _Mary Poppins_. “Who the hell is Mary Poppins?”

“A magical nanny,” Hermione answered. Before Draco could ask any more questions, she insisted, “Your turn, now.”

“To win, you must get all five correct,” Draco said. “You get four, we declare a draw. If you only answer three correctly, then I suppose I will be needing those mints,” he teased.

“How considerate,” Hermione quipped.

“First question is the same as yours,” Draco said. “When is my birthday?”

Hermione did not hesitate and Draco did not bother to write it down. When Hermione presented him with _The fifth of June, 1980,_ he was hardly surprised.

“Second question, what was my first job?”

Draco wrote the answer on his own parchment and waited for Hermione to respond. It took her several moments.

“There is one more, I know it …” She trailed off. Hermione tapped the nib of her quill against the parchment and stared up at the ceiling of the lift. “Oh!” She wrote her answer and Draco groaned as he revealed his own.

_Vice President of Operations at Silver Snitches_

“The name was meant to be a swipe at the Purebloods who cling to the old ways,” Draco admitted. “I loved doing that work. I am very good at managing people and it seemed like the proper thing to do was use my money to help others. There is not enough charity in the world to erase what I have done, but I always felt a bit better when I was there.”

“Why did you leave?” Hermione asked.

“Once people found out I was on the board, they no longer wanted to donate,” Draco admitted. “A recurring theme throughout my job search, you understand.”

“I am sorry,” she admitted. Draco laughed.

“I do not need you to feel sorry for me, Granger. I need you to fucking lose!”

“Not a chance,” Hermione countered. “Next question. Go.”

“Name my favourite class at Hogwarts,” Draco challenged. Hermione wrote down her answer and Draco laughed when she held it up.

“Bloody hell, do you know how to perform undetectable Legilimency?” he shouted.

“Simple,” Hermione said with a shrug. “Divination was the only class you ever beat me in, and only then because I dropped out.”

“I also enjoyed Trelawney telling Potter he would die every week,” Draco conceded.

“All the more reason for me to leave,” Hermione quipped.

“You are three-for-three,” Draco said. “One more to tie and two to win. So, increasing the difficulty, tell me the name of the first wizard I killed.”

That sobered Hermione. She grabbed her quill and wrote an answer down on the parchment. Draco had no idea whether she knew, and how it was possible she could. He did not feel bad about that memory. The target was an awful man who hurt people, and Draco had known enough of those throughout his life. He didn’t drag it out, didn’t torture the man any, just surprised him with a flash of green light. Draco did not flinch at the sound of the body hitting the floor. Hell, he’d been at the Battle of Hogwarts where more bodies fell around him than he cared to count.

The worst part was bringing the body back.

“Mason Caithness,” Hermione said, revealing her parchment. “I had to deal with the fallout in Scotland.”

“Apologies,” Draco lied. Hermione saw right through it, but Draco made no move to correct himself. Instead he said, “We are up to at least a draw, I suppose. Bit sad, I was looking forward to snogging you.”

“I don’t think you’re lying,” Hermione replied. Draco felt his ears go pink because he was not certain he was lying, either.

“One question to keep my job,” Draco deflected. He thought about it and asked, “I don’t suppose you have any more cake?”

“We’ll have cake to celebrate your career move.” Hermione smiled and said, “Give it your best shot, Malfoy. You’ve never been able to outsmart me before, but I suppose there truly is a first time for everything.”

Draco laughed sardonically.

“Final question, then. I told you the answer once, but I doubt you were paying enough attention to remember.”

Hermione lowered her voice and said, “I have been known to occasionally pay attention.” Draco laughed at his own words being tossed back in his face.

“Why did I convert to the new ways?” he asked. Hermione let her head fall into her hands. “You asked me once and I told you. We were on our fifth shot of Firewhisky so I doubt you would—" Draco stopped as Hermione wrote something down on her parchment.

“I remember,” she said. “I wouldn’t forget something like that because you’re my friend.” Hermione held up her parchment and Draco nodded at the name written on it.

_Charity Burbage_

“I’ve seen people killed for many things, Granger, and no one deserves to die because they want to make the world a kinder place.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but the party chant filtered in through the door.

_10 …_

_9 …_

_8 …_

_7 …_

_6 …_

Hermione crawled over to Draco in what he supposed was the most dignified way she could manage.

_5 …_

_4 …_

“Happy New Year,” Hermione whispered.

_3 …_

“Granger, I don’t think …”

_2 …_

“… you’re going to want to do this.”

_1 …_

_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

And she kissed him. Granger was hesitant at first, which was fine. Her lips were soft and full, and Draco hadn’t had a kiss like this in years. It was slow, new, and tentative. She pulled back for a moment and anxiously tucked her hair behind her ears. Draco turned his whole body toward her and sat up on his knees. He wrapped one hand around the back of Hermione’s neck and pulled her closer.

Their next kiss made Draco feel like the ground was shaking. Hermione pulled on his shirt before wrapping her arms around his waist. He had the sudden urge to touch every part of Hermione, running his hands down her shoulders and her sides. His fingers counted up her ribcage and—

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

The lift voice rang out. The doors opened and Draco pulled back just enough to see Minister Shacklebolt walking in. He cast them one glance, rolled his eyes, then walked to the other side of the lift to press the button for Level 1. He said nothing for several seconds, Draco frozen with his hands on Hermione’s waist and Hermione much the same with her head tilted back against the wall.

“We can move our meeting to next week, Miss Granger,” the Minister said before exiting the lift.

Once the doors closed, Draco and Hermione burst into laughter. Hermione stifled her giggles on Draco’s shoulder.

“Oh, God, I should just quit and save myself the humiliation of that meeting.”

“Absolutely,” Draco agreed, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Then we can be unemployed together.”

Hermione kissed him again and said, “I guess you’re stuck with me.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                               

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism are always appreciated!


End file.
